The Forsaken

On shaky legs, I stepped into Andre’s room. He was rubbing his hair with a towel, his skin damp. I guess he’d slipped into another shower while I used his.

 

I was certain he forgot to wash something. That, or he used his super speed to get clean. There was no other explanation for how he’d managed to get all his business finished and take a shower in the same time it took me to get clean.

 

That, or my visit with the devil took even longer than it felt. And it felt long. I pushed down the panic that rose whenever I thought of him. He was always there, waiting in the wings of my mind. If I let myself get consumed by thoughts of him, I’d be his long before I ever set foot in hell.

 

 

 

Seeing me, Andre paused. Other than a pair of low-slung jeans, he was blissfully naked.

 

They just don’t make men the same way they used to.

 

I braced an arm against the wall. Praise Jesus for hormones and short attention spans. I needed a distraction right about now and Andre was just about as good as it got.

 

His gaze flicked over my towel-clad body, and I shuddered at his appraisal. It reminded me too much of the devil’s.

 

Andre’s brow puckered. “Soulmate, are you okay?”

 

So much for a distraction. I considered lying, but, oh hell with it. I shook my head. “No, I’m really not.”

 

He crossed the room. “What’s wrong?” He pushed some damp strands of hair behind my ear.

 

“The devil visited me while I was in the shower.”

 

“While you were … in the shower?” Andre repeated.

 

I gave him something between a headshake and a nod. It conveyed perfectly my own uncertainty.

 

Andre’s face blackened with rage. “That bastard.”

 

He came to me, his hands lightly touching my shoulders. “What did he do to you?”

 

“Nothing physical.” Even as I spoke, my mind drifted back to the encounter. The devil hadn’t seemed nearly so hostile lately. Disconcerting, as usual, but not violent.

 

Andre’s eyes roved over me, as if he couldn’t believe it. Or maybe he was realizing that the devil had gotten an eyeful of naked Gabrielle.

 

 

 

“What did he say to you?”

 

I shook my head. No way was I repeating some of the things he said. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over. He’s gone.”

 

Andre’s troubled eyes lifted from mine to the air beyond. I could tell he was thinking the same thing I was: the devil might be gone, but he was never far.

 

My gaze moved to Andre’s bed. I’d now slept several days in his arms. But as my gaze took in the soft sheets, Hestia’s words echoed in my mind. Hell, fate echoed in my mind. Unless I could convince Decima otherwise, I had less than a lunar cycle—twenty-eight days—to live.

 

“Soulmate?” Andre stepped up next to me.

 

When I turned to face him, he must’ve seen the direction of my thoughts because he stilled, his nostrils flaring.

 

My skin lightly glowed, but I was in control. I placed my hands on his bare chest. Warmth that shouldn’t be there emanated from him. That was the thing about magic. It made no logical sense, and yet it simply was.

 

I swallowed, staring at the expanse of chiseled muscle in front of me. I didn’t know what to do next.

 

The back of Andre’s hand slid along my jaw. He cupped the back of my neck and tilted my head up to face him. His eyes searched mine.

 

I scented the air, breathing in Andre’s spicy smell.

 

“Gabrielle …” Andre’s hands skimmed down my sides. They caressed the swell of my hips.

 

“Do you want this as much as I do?” I asked.

 

His jaw clenched, but for once it was out of self-restraint, not anger. “More.”

 

I ran my hands down his torso, pausing at the edge of his jeans. He didn’t stop me when I undid his pants’ top button. He used to.

 

 

 

Andre functioned so differently from me. I’d simply wanted him since the beginning. It was an ache in my bones, the need to be close to him. But for Andre, who had practiced so much self-restraint over his long life, he didn’t just give into his every whim and desire. At least, not when it came to me.

 

I think that now, after all we’d been through, he finally figured we’d earned the right to do this. You can only cross paths with death and damnation so many times.

 

I tugged his zipper down then moved my hands back up his torso, running them over his shoulders and down his arms, feeling every sculpted edge of muscle there. His body shuddered at the sensation.

 

A half-smile curved Andre’s mouth, but his eyes were serious. He took my chin and angled my head up, brushing a kiss along my lips. “Are you sure?” he whispered.

 

“Andre.” I gave him a look, and he laughed, the sound made husky by his rising passion.

 

I backed up from him. Unhooking the edges of my towel, I let it slide off my body.

 

I heard him growl ominously as he prowled after me. He scooped me up in his arms, and I yelped as he carried me to the bed. His scent wafted around us, mingling with mine.

 

He set me down on his soft mattress. His gaze trailed over my body, drinking in every inch of exposed skin. I moved to cover myself, suddenly shy.

 

He took my hands and kissed the knuckles of each. “You have nothing to hide, soulmate. And trust me when I say there is no reason to be embarrassed. None.” His voice had roughened as he spoke, and his gaze slid back to my body. He placed my hands at my sides and ran one of his palms over a piece of exposed flesh, feeling the gentle dip and rise of my curves.

 

 

 

His gaze seared my skin, making it shine brighter. “You’ve never been lovelier than you are right now,” he breathed.

 

I looked pointedly at his pants, which, despite being unzipped, had remained on his hips. I didn’t blame those pants; I’d suction myself to him if I got the chance. Correction: I would suction myself to him once they were gone. “You have two pieces of clothing on. I have none. This needs to change.”

 

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